I’d love to talk to Colin Powell about how he could’ve let that whole Iraq thing happen. Brunch with Van Gogh at his zaniest would have been fresh. I’d love to have drinks with Jean Beaudrillard and ponder the substantial vaccousness of America. If I met Ghandi I’d rub his belly in my best approximation of the Ignorant Frat Boy.
I’d like to meet up with Faruka Balk and just stare into her eyes without speaking, pay the bill and calmly walk away.
Shooting up with Sid and W.S. Burroughs in one room would be a meeting I’d take (minus the heroin). Killing time with Bob Marley wouldn’t suck, as he’d roll up a huge fatty and we’d talk about the nature of art, communication and love. I’d request the minutes from my meetings with Hammurabi, Jesus, Budda, Gengis Kahn and Keeanu Reeves.
I’d like to meet the sisters Simpson and Duff all at once, kind of a round table thing where we’d push aside the fluff and got down to the nitty gritty nuts and bolts political and philosophical issues I know they’re all dying to talk about. I read an essay by Ashlee once called “The Theory of Forgetting and the Problem of Matter” that blew my mind and I can’t remember which Duff wrote “Capturing the Sinai: The Modern Ramifications of Israeli Success in the Arab Peninsula”, but it really opened my eyes to the real politik of the mid-east region.
If I met Clay Aiken I’d pinch his cheeks and wish him the best of luck. I’d like to meet up with the hombre that invented burritos, buy him one from Taco Cabana and ask him what he thought of his progeny now. Were I ever to meet Scott Baio I’d thank him for his exceptional work in Charles in Charge, to which I owe the bulk of my social skills. I’d like to meet others, but they frankly don’t warrant mention here, excepting how much I wish I could hang out with Tiffany Amber Theissen
Buddy Lembeck from Charles In Charge, Doc the old man from Fraggle Rock, Mr. Belvedere, Arthur ‘Fonzie’ Fonzarelli and Ralph Malph from Happy Days.
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